


i've got an atlas in my hands

by androidmin



Category: EXO (Band), Z.Tao (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism, mentions of drug use (in passing)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8734039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androidmin/pseuds/androidmin
Summary: Sehun’s imagination does absolutely no justice to Zitao.





	

 

 

 

Sehun likes the slide of his own fingers on the inside of his thighs. He revels in the way his muscles shift under taut skin when he isolates each limb. He’s lying on his back in the middle of his bed. One of the lights, he remembers, needs a new bulb.

He’s restless.

His mind wanders to the pretty stranger he saw the other day--Sehun thinks about him as he snakes his hand into the waistband of his basketball shorts, a slightly different intention with his self exploration. He spends more time thinking about the curl of his smile when the boy had paid for the chips. It was small, but it softened his features.

The perks of working in a convenience store, really. Sehun thumbs slightly at the skin on his hip, the juncture of his leg, until he curls into himself.

He falls asleep, never really reaching completion.

 

 

 

 

After work on Friday, he gets a text from Jongdae, they’re meeting up for drinks again. He says Chanyeol might make it, too.

Sehun drives an old sedan, circa 2000 that sounds like it might give up any second. The headlights flicker briefly, but he’s grateful to even have a car. The heater’s broken, so he pulls the sleeves of his hoodie down further to create a buffer between his hands and cold steering wheel. Gloves might be cheaper to buy, because fixing the heater is too much of an investment. He makes a mental note to pick up a pair.

 

 

Pulling into the only bar in nowhere USA that isn’t crowded with forty something year olds is routine. There’s a group of people huddled outside. He faintly smells pot wafting by when he pushes through the double doors; Chanyeol’s familiar laughter sounds near by. Sehun snickers to himself.

He adjusts the beanie he’s wearing, pushing at the strands of black hair that flop into his eyes. It’s hazy inside, thick with cigarette smoke. Sehun crinkles his nose. The smell is always hard to get rid of. He barely glances at the person giving out fliers for some rave, instead scanning the room for a familiar face. Sehun doesn’t really hang out with people his age, and he’s only a part time university student as it is. His circle of friends is therefore limited.

“Sehun!” Jongdae’s voice finds him first. His friend is small, but he’s always the loudest. Kind of.

Sehun’s friends are just really loud.

He’s shoved into the middle of the booth, a plate of fries placed directly in front of him.

“You can’t have any beer,” Chanyeol says wandering over, “I’m already driving Jongdae home, and I’m not putting up with two drunks.”

Jongdae sniffs indignantly, squinting at Chanyeol’s face.

“At least he’s not stoned this time,” he says smug, “And I deserve to get shit faced. This week has been so hard.” Jongdae’s melodrama makes Sehun laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he continues, “remember that guy I work with? The one that _never_ smiles?”

Sehun tries to keep a straight face, “Um, yeah? Did he finally smile or something...?”

Jongdae nods, looking forlorn, “He did, and it wasn’t because of or for _me_ \--”

Chanyeol stuffs a few fries into his mouth, “He’s only had a beer, and it was a nasty bud weiser he found in the back of my fridge.” Chewed bits of food land on the table when they fall from his mouth. Sehun moves his hand.

“The fact that you continue to buy shit beer,” Sehun says teasing Chanyeol. Then he turns, sighing softly when he pats Jongdae’s head, the gesture only halfway patronizing.

He’s mumbling something else, about the shape of the guy’s mouth. Jongdae’s not drunk enough for this, but they let him continue.

There’s a band going on stage to perform. It drowns out a bit of the sad sounds Jongdae is making.

 

 

 

“Jongdae, shut the _fuck_ up,” Chanyeol says after an hour, “no one wants to hear about your dick, please spare us.”

“Come on, _hyung_ ,” Sehun switches his tone halfway through the sentence to accommodate the word.

“Don’t use that word,” Chanyeol shifts closer, “it’s another one of his weird kinks, and like--”

“Chanyeol _Park_! You said you wouldn’t tell,” Jongdae practically screeches, “You pinky swore!”

“I honestly, do not recall,” he blinks.

Sehun looks up when someone places two milkshakes and another beer on their table, extra napkins included.

“You guys finding everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks, “Sehun glances up at the waiter briefly. He’s never seen him working here before, but Sehun doesn’t get a chance to ask when Chanyeol drags Jongdae away to the bathroom.

“Gonna dunk his head into the toilet real quick!”

Sehun laughs as he watches Chanyeol pull Jongdae by the arm. He’s putting up much more of a fight than expected.

Sehun knows Chanyeol will probably make Jongdae wash his face, and then he’ll rub his back and say some encouraging things.

Chanyeol’s a really good friend, even if he can only be kind through the guise of sarcasm. Or from an inebriated haze.

They're good friends.

Sehun sips at his milkshake. It's technically too cold for this, but it’s hot inside the bar, a lot more crowded than usual.

Chanyeol finally comes back a lot later, Jongdae missing from his side.

“Are you--” Sehun begins.

“I’ve never seen Jongdae so _sad_ ,” Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows when he sits, “but I think he’s okay. I just didn’t expect him to be serious. I mean, he’s _Jongdae_.”

Sehun nods, playing with the straw in his drink. When Jongdae comes back, they tuck him between them, acting as buffers on each side of him. Sehun shares his milkshake, even letting Jongdae have the cherry.

It’s not until they’re outside even later, about to part ways, that Jongdae sloppily kisses Sehun on the cheek, doing the same to Chanyeol.

“I love both of you--”Jongdae is still pretty drunk, and it allows Chanyeol to pick him up easily.

“Drive safe! Text me when you get home," Chanyeol calls over his shoulder, a limp Jongdae slung over the other.

Sehun waves, tucking his chin into his chest, bracing himself against the cold.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a week later when the pretty stranger comes into the convenience store again, but when his phone rings--he speaks in rapid fire Mandarin and leaves. Sehun picks the cheetos up that fell to the ground when he ran out.

Sehun doesn’t see him after that, but he feels like he knows his face better. There's a certain familiarity to his features.

Yet, it still eludes him when he’s falling asleep that night.

He hopes the customer returns.

 

 

 

 

Friday trudges in again in a sleepy cold haze, there’s a foot of snow outside.

Sehun kicks off his boots at the door, walking with socked feet to his room. He changes into sweats, immediately heating up leftover food, and he pulls out the eight pack Chanyeol gave him a few weeks ago.

“PBR is the best,” Chanyeol had slurred before passing out on Sehun’s bed.

The beer fizzes when he pops the tab open, booting up his computer, Sehun settles into the floor on the side of his bed. He indulges in netflix.

 

Sehun loses interest in the second beer, enraptured by the movie playing out on the screen. He becomes acutely aware of tightness of his skin when the credits begin to roll. There's a small insistent ache that starts as a thought, eventually blooming in the pit of his stomach. Sehun's love life is nonexistent, but he craves something else sometimes, less carnal, more concrete.

He settles on watching. Pushing away the slight guilt he feels as he types in two words in the imposing search bar.

_Solo boy._

Immediately a few hundred results pop up, but there's one session that’s just beginning.

The name of the person is _Kingdao_. The profile states simply that he's twenty three, male, and Chinese. Location US.

Sexuality undefined.

And he doesn't show his face.

 

The video quality is better than any other livestream he’s ever watched, and the lighting is much more flattering than expected. Sehun’s pleasantly surprised.

In the chatbox there are already people chiming in and the tips, varying from five to ten dollars, have already started to roll in.

_Hello_  
Kingdao types

_Are you ready?_

A figure appears; he's dressed in a light gray T-shirt and tight boxers.

_Turn on your audio, and please enjoy_  
He waves, and Sehun unmutes the live stream.

There's a heavy bass thumping, and Sehun vaguely recognizes the song as something by Usher circa 2005. Kingdao hits each beat with a flick if his wrist, making as if to pull off his shirt, but he turns his back to the camera. He sways his hips, and Sehun is entranced by the sensuality of it. The simple way he undulates each limb in a succession of movement, flowing from one move to the next, dancing.

Sehun notes that he has a really nice ass, perfectly round and toned. And _fuck_.

 

Kingdao shimmies out of his boxers as the hook verse sounds again.

When he turns back around, Kingdao turns the music down as the song begins to wind down, an old Mariah Carey song begins to play next. He shifts onto the bed, tossing his boxers to the side.

Sehun rests his right hand on his lower tummy, pushing the waistband of his sweats a little lower. His fingers tapping the sensitive skin in anticipation.

Kingdao leans back on his hands, legs falling open easily. He's already hard, erection poking from underneath his T-shirt. Kingdao grabs the hem of his shirt and drags it upwards.

Sehun watches, subconsciously rubbing his thumb along the edge of his bellybutton. The front of his sweats are now tented, but he wants to wait. He doesn't want to work himself up too quick.

Kingdao finally pulls his shirt up completely. He's revealing how hard he is to everyone watching, as if pulling up the curtain, the beginning of what everyone’s been waiting for.

Sehun chances a glance to the side of the screen,the chat box is in a frenzy of comments pouring in.

Kingdao lazily caresses his thighs, pushes fingers into his hips.

This is his show after all.

There's a light trailing of hair that connects his bellybutton and pelvic area, Sehun’s glad the camera picks it up.

He imagines nuzzling into it, tongue peeking out to lick his dry lips.

Kingdao rubs a nipple through his shirt, pinching the material, his legs push open even more. Sehun mimics the action, but he reaches under his shirt instead. Sehun hears his own breathing hitch, reacting to his own ministrations. He can’t help but pinch at the pebbled nub.

When Kingdao finally grasps the base of his cock, Sehun interprets it as permission to do the same. He pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, feeling the carpet scratch roughly at his thighs, ass too.

Sehun encircles the crown, watching Kingdao's own exaggerated movements. His fingers slowly caress the tip, until they form a tight ring that drag up and down, and he's curling his toes.

Sehun fists himself slowly as he watches. Its much more gratifying when he mirrors Kingdao who pulls at his balls, finally picking up the pace. Sehun curls his own socked toes, fuzzy mind briefly flashing with thoughts of someone else touching him.

The image is cut short when a burst of pleasure shoots through him, pools white hot with sharp need, a tight ball that begs to come. Kingdao picks up his pace, but he suddenly slides off the bed. Sehun’s hit the edge, and he can’t think of anything besides just wanting to _come_. But he forces himself to stop, and the comments sections pings with a comment from Kingdao.

_Want to see me come, just for you, my lovely audience?_

And there’s more rushed comments of ‘baby boy’ and ‘hell yeah’ probably typed with one hand, because there are too many typos in the messages that keep popping up.

With an extravagant flourish, Kingdao tugs once at his dick, letting it hit his stomach when he lets it go. He turns around one more time; he’s giving the audience an eyeful of his pert ass, spreading his cheeks and arching his back. Exposing himself completely.

Sehun wants to come, he wants to come so so bad, but he tries to slow down. He exhales through his mouth, digging his thumb into the slit. Kingdao’s ending is just as strong. He bucks into his fist, the other hand rolling a nipple between his fingers. The way he’s erratically bucking prompts Sehun on, too.

He feels the way his thighs are clenching, pleasure blinding, pleasure sweet sweet. He’s on the precipice of his climax; the panting he hears coming from his speakers is faint, urging Sehun forward.

Kingdao comes in one long spurt onto his shirt, a stark white against the material. Sehun lets his orgasm wash over him, feeling it radiate and spread throughout his limbs.

Kingdao sits on the bed cleaning himself, and preening.

_Thank you,_ He types, _your views mean a lot :) ._ He makes a heart at the camera. He waves, and then the stream is gone. Sehun cleans himself up too. He’s never felt like this, a tingling lingers in his scalp, under his skin. He bookmarks Kingdao’s profile for later.

He kind of feels like shit.

Sehun ends up watching a Dutch movie with a title he can’t pronounce, letting his fingers ghost over his lips. He falls asleep sometime around the ending scene and credits.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sehun's lining up the gum around the register, he doesn't notice that there's a customer waiting. He's startled when he hears someone clear their throat.

"Um--"

 

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't see you--" He scrambles to the register, making eye contact with the customer.

It's the same person he's been thinking about now for the past month. Except his memory hasn't done the man any justice whatsoever. His breath catches briefly before Sehun remembers to ask, "How are you doing today?"

"I'm fine, and how about you?" He smiles politely, watching Sehun scan his snacks, pretzels this time and juice, and promptly bag them.

"I'm okay too, thanks," Sehun flashes his best smile, "that'll be five dollars even."

They brush fingers when Sehun hands him his receipt, accepting the cash.

He watches the pretty stranger head out, burrowing into his jacket as he climbs into a sleek black car. Sehun wishes he'd prolonged the conversation beyond the automatic pleasantries he was used to as a cashier. He huffs; Sehun hadn’t even gotten a good look at his face.

Jongdae calls him when he's driving home. "Let's meet up, yeah." It's more of a statement than a question.

"You're not gonna get drunk again, right?" Sehun wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder, turning right on red.

"No," Jongdae huffs, "I'm the designated driver this time.Want me to pick you up too?"

"Sure," he pauses at a stop sign, "I don't know if I'll drink this time though." Sehun's been feeling a particular aversion to alcohol lately. No reason. Sobriety wasn’t really a punishment.

"That's fine, we can crash at my place. Or _you_ can be the driver," Jongdae suggests, already changing plans.

"Um, that, I'll think about. Just text me when you're on your way."

 

 

They begin the night as usual, Sehun the only one adhering to his promise of sobriety. Jongdae and Chanyeol poke at him, giggling when Sehun's interest in a stranger he's only properly seen a few times is voiced.

"You should talk to him next time, ask him if he's in the need for condoms or some shit--" Chanyeol munches on a handful of fries. The burger in his other hand drips a glob of ketchup onto the table. There are more condiments smeared around his mouth. Jongdae reaches over Sehun and wipes at Chanyeol's face. Sehun scrunches his nose in mild disgust at his friend’s eating habits..

"If he comes in next time ask him how he's been," Jongdae pats Sehun's cheek, "make it known that you remember him."

More suggestions are thrown his way, but Sehun mentally discards most of them. He has more food shoved into his mouth too, Jongdae making sure that none of them have ketchup or mustard on their faces.

The gesture is annoying but appreciated. A small gesture that he cares, or that he’s mildly embarrassed.

 

 

Sehun looks up when he feels someone hovering near him.

"Hey I remember you!" There's a flicker of recognition when Sehun makes eye contact with the waiter.

He's alone so he puts in extra effort, taking an extra breath. Chanyeol is somewhere smoking, probably. Jongdae had flitted away a little later when his phone had rung

"Oh, you do?" The dark haired man asks, placing the mug in front of Sehun. Coffee this time, to keep him awake.

"Yeah you come into the convenience store I work at?"

"Right! How are you?" He seems to make the connection, because he smiles wider. It softens his face in all the right ways, the shadows around his features reduced.

"Not much has changed since this afternoon," Sehun smiles at him, mostly eyes this time.

"Ah," he fiddles with the tray, "are you here by yourself?"

 

"Oh, no, I'm not--" Sehun is cut off when Jongdae plops down next to him.

"Hey," Jongdae says pocketing his phone. He makes eye contact with the waiter, "Oh! How are you?"

"I'm okay, any luck with 'Soo?" The waiter giggles, clearly he knows Jongdae. Sehun thinks his laugh is really cute, mentally locking the sound away.

"No, but its okay--"

"Wait, he knows about your horrible crush?" Sehun points at the waiter, questioning Jongdae when his mind makes another connection. He’s only marginally jealous that this man knows Jongdae.

"Yeah, he's friends with Kyungsoo, but hey--"

Sehun turns back to the waiter.

"We used to be roommates," he explains with a smile, then pauses, " I'm Zitao by the way."

Zitao, he's the pretty customer thats been teasing at the edges of his consciousness. He's a lot better looking than what his mind's eye was remembering. But he hadn't properly looked at him earlier, too nervous.

Zitao's hair is jet black, the sides cut so that they taper closer to his neck and ears. Sehun likes the slight pout his mouth settles into too, the slight curl when he smiles. His jawline perfect, the strong planes of his face handsome, and the natural tan are nothing compared to what Sehun had been trying to recall.

Sehun is enamored, attraction blooming brighter.

He wants to know Zitao. Beyond the surface.

"I'm Sehun. It's nice to really meet you," he says finally, remembering how to speak.

 

 

Sehun does end up being the designated driver for the night, but in his right pocket there's a wrinkly napkin with smudged blue ink.

Zitao Huang said he wants to get to know Sehun too. And that settles onto his tongue and into his limbs much better than a beer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sehun thinks about moving. It’s not a passing thought. It’s more so, as something constant, it wriggles in the back of his mind. He considers the other side of the country. Mindlessly flicking through google earth, he keys in different cities. Rainy Seattle, sunny San Francisco, snowy Montana, or he could always go to New Orleans. Maybe make a connection to his roots, cross an ocean and make his home in Seoul.

“The world is so vast,” he whispers to himself, closing his laptop. It’s a rare Thursday morning off; Sehun is at the library with a stack of books at his feet. The insistent buzzing of his phone makes him pause. He’s been texting Zitao all morning. He tells Sehun how he can’t buy his morning snack without him at the convenience store to check him out. He adds a little sad face at the end of his text, and Sehun can practically see him pouting.

But he agrees to meet Sehun in the library instead.

Zitao’s existence is as quiet and subtle as Sehun’s own. He takes classes online, and sometimes--more often than not, he goes to the gym.

He also frequents the movie theater that plays old films, the same one Sehun has yet to go to. Despite being a self proclaimed movie buff of sorts.

“What are you reading?” Zitao’s voice startles him slightly. Yet, his words are soft, always falling from his lips with a certain lilt that allude to the fact that his mother tongue is not English.

Sehun’s glad Zitao was able to find him with the instructions to the secluded corner in his last text.

“This one’s on outer space,” Sehun shows him, but coaxes Zitao into the beanbag chair next to his.

“That one’s pretty,” Zitao points to the glossy image.

“I think this is,” Sehun squints reading the small text, “it’s the remains of a supernova.”

Zitao’s knee knocks into his, Sehun is hyper aware of their close proximity. They’re still new to one another, Sehun thinks, but the flicker of attraction is still there.  
He shifts slightly.

“So you like astronomy?” Zitao asks, still flipping through the book.

“I like to read about anything,” Sehun shrugs, “you?”

“Hmm,” he hums, “yeah. It’s humbling, don’t you think?”

Sehun nods, watching Zitao flip through to the back. There’s a flat silver band around his thumb, it matches the chain around his neck, and the single hoop that pierces through the cartilage of his right ear.

They whisper about each book they read, ingesting facts, categorizing images. Sehun now knows too much about sea urchins; Zitao surprises him with his vast knowledge of the technical aspects of movie making. The camera obscura and phantasmagorias peak Sehun’s interest the most.

They part ways after a late lunch. The afterglow of the shared companionship leaves Sehun thrumming with happiness as he goes home. He remembers to buy his gloves.

 

 

 

 

Sehun watches Kingdao on Sunday night, mild _need_ had sprung from the boredom. It’s been almost two months.

_Happy Sunday!_ Kingdao types.

 

This time his show lasts thirty minutes, and there seems to be a bit of urgency in his movements. The viewer count is also lacking in numbers.

Sehun doesn’t mind, because as soon as Kingdao waves goodbye, Zitao texts him.

He rolls onto his stomach, reading the text.

_what are you up to?_

_not much. wanna get dinner at that one diner near the interstate_ , he types quickly.

_sure_ , Zitao replies, _let me finish up here, meet you in an hour?_

_see you!_

 

Sehun decides to dress warmly with sweats and a hoodie. Too many layers to peel off later, but when he walks outside, he’s glad he made a good wardrobe decision.  
He arrives to the diner before Zitao, sitting in a booth in the corner. The vinyl seat cracks when he shifts, and the table feels sticky under his bare hands.

"Sehunnie," Zitao greets him, cheeks tinged a dusty pink. He looks much more put together than Sehun even if all he's wearing is sweats and a puffy jacket.

Zitao smells like fabric softener when he leans in to sit down across from him.

His foot rubs Sehun's ankle under the table, and he’s brushing cold fingertips to the younger’s wrist.

The newness of their friendship has dissolved, casual touches left behind.

Comforting, knowing.

And Sehun tries not to crave more.

"I've never eaten here before," he says eyeing the menu in Sehun’s hand.

"How about a cheeseburger, with bacon?"

"Are the fries good?"

"They're the best," Sehun grins.

"Hm," Zitao perks up, "Okay. I worked up an appetite earlier anyway."

 

They entertain the idea of watching a movie at Zitao's, he apparently has a vhs player, but they both have things to do the next day. Eventually they part ways.

"Let me know when you get home, " Zitao says, when Sehun climbs into his car. He has his hand on the door handle.

Sehun rolls his eyes, "You live farther, you text me."

"Shut up , just drive safe."

Sehun nods, content, "You too, okay?"

"Will do," Zitao winks, blowing a kiss as he walks away.

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol and Jongdae are merciless when they discover Zitao is the same person as the convenience store boy. They decide revenge is best when Sehun has withheld this information now for a few months. Sehun also decides to stop talking forever, because his mouth only gets him into trouble.

“I can’t believe you think very little of us,” Jongdae pouts.

“Honestly,” Chanyeol makes a face resembling a grimace, but he’s trying to pout.

They dissolve into drunken giggles when Zitao appears with a notepad.

“How are things with Kyungsoo, still giving you the cold shoulder?” Sehun shoots back.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol adds, “how are things?” He thinks he’s clever, but he’s just on the border of being completely wasted.

“Fine,” Jongdae is smug,”we’re going to dinner this weekend.”

“He only has me to thank,” Zitao pipes up from where he’s standing. They all laugh, but Jongdae is completely unperturbed. Whenever they go out, it seems that Sehun is always left by himself. He doesn’t mind when Zitao makes sure to be extra attentive.

“Those girls were trying to flirt with me, I think,” Zitao looks flustered.

“They need better taste in boys,” Sehun teases him.

“What do you know about good taste?” Zitao huffs.

“I have _good_ taste.”

Zitao looks at him.

There’s a certain way Sehun feels under his gaze. He looks away, unable to meet Zitao’s eyes.

“I have good taste too,” Zitao’s voice isn’t teasing, “I’m positive. But I think this may also just be a special case.”

 

He darts off to attend to a group of people, and Chanyeol sits back down next to Sehun.

“So you gonna ask him out?” Chanyeol smells faintly of pot.

“No,” Sehun breathes, “just friends. We’re okay this way.”

“Ahh,” Chanyeol seems clear headed, “You two seem really close.”

“But _we’re_ close,” Sehun says meekly gesturing to himself and Chanyeol.

“Um,” his laugh is too loud. It rings in Sehun’s ears. “Not like you two. Not at all.”

There’s a pause in their conversation. Sehun lets his eyes follow Zitao around the room as he attends to people. Their eyes meet, but it’s hard to tell with the lighting being so dim.

“It’s good though,” Chanyeol says out of nowhere, “I think you two are good.”

 

When he's driving them home Sehun notices there's a full moon. The clouds obscure it briefly, and there's a certain eeriness to the glow. Something seems to shift. Sehun shivering prompts him to turn up the heater in Jongdae's car.

Maybe the universe is up to something.

 

 

 

Movie nights in Sehun's apartment are a weekly occurrence.

"You call them films?" Zitao asks one night.

"Uh, yeah," he scratches at his head, hand hovering over the track pad. They're going to watch one of Sehun's favorite b movies starring Winona Ryder, _Mermaids_.

“I wanted to go to film school," Zitao says quietly.

"Really?"

There's something sweet in the disclosure.

"Yeah," he smiles, " when we lived in China I used to have a little camcorder we bought from a family friend. My mom said I could make it in Hollywood if I tried hard enough. " Zitao snorts suddenly " but that was then."

Sehun hums, leaning into Zitao.

"I'm sure they would've sucked. "

Zitao pinches his side, whining about how Sehun is the meanest. He threatens to leave, but he doesn't move. Instead he tightens his grip around Sehun's waist, nuzzling his head into the younger's thigh from where he’s sprawled. They settle into the bed when the opening credits start.

 

When it gets too late, Zitao spends the night. Except now he's migrated from the couch to the bed with Sehun.

"This is comfier."

"Ugh," Sehun whines, "but your feet are cold," even though it was his suggestion.

Zitao snuggles in close, "But you're so warm," he tucks his bare feet under Sehun's own feet.

Sehun buries his nose into the pillow,"Why do you get to be the big spoon."

"Because I'm older," he mumbles, lips ghosting over the nape of his neck.

 

Zitao sleeping with him becomes routine. The bed begins to feel too big when he isn't around. The pillow smells like his shampoo, faintly of his preferred cologne. Sehun finds himself waking up with Zitao's pillow clutched to his chest.

 

Chanyeol’s words echo in his head.

Sehun doesn’t know what they are anymore.

 

 

 

Their first kiss is a quick peck to the lips, Zitao looks away too quickly. When he leaves, he forgets his toothbrush and doesn't text Sehun back for a week.

Sehun is worried, he's worried he might have pushed Zitao too far, like maybe, maybe they shouldn't have kissed.

Sour guilt settles deeply, intertwined with self loathing. He frets at work the entire week. He drops too much change and keeps zoning in and out.

 

 

Zitao texts, promising to explain later. He isn’t mad, he _promises_. It’s something that Sehun finds hard to believe, especially when Zitao has become an integral part of his everyday.

 

He tries to find comfort in his friends. This is okay. Things will be alright.

Kingdao's profile states that he's taking a break.

Nothing feels particularly right.

 

 

 

 

"Sorry I disappeared, " Zitao begins when he meets Sehun outside of his work, "but we need to talk."

And Sehun believes this is the end to a non start because they're just _friends_ after all.

 

Sehun has never been in Zitao's apartment past his living room or kitchen. His bedroom is off limits, the rule unspoken but heavily implied.His room is perfectly clean. Much more bare than Sehun imagined. There's a family portrait on the dresser, but the image is black and white.

Sehun spots the movie equipment and lights in the corner.

 

The room seems familiar, a strange deja vu.

"So--" Zitao says coughing into his hand, " I don't want to mislead you. But I do something that you might not approve of."

Sehun doesn't understand. Zitao sits on the edge of his bed, hands in his lap.

"I--so I don't have much experience, you know with like--" He trails off embarrassed.

"I don't either," Sehun whispers, flushing a deep red, " but that's okay, right?" They had spoken briefly, in vague terms about their love lives, or lack thereof. Sehun had never known heartbreak, only _heartaches_ from unrequited love and messy, stumbling experimenting. Zitao was more or less the same.

 

Zitao nods, "Mhm."

 

The silence is too loud, too imposing, the distance between them large.

"I'm a camboy."

Ah.

"But I'm not _ashamed_ \--" Zitao looks frustrated, "I'm not, and I don't want to stop. This is for me, and I like it but--"

Sehun doesn't know how to respond, but he makes a sound to let him know that he’s listening.  
"I just don't--" Zitao huffs, "I don't know what I'm saying. I just, I want to be open with you? But I didn’t think you would actually _like_ me. In the kissing way, and I’m always scared people will think I’m hypersexual, when I only know how to touch myself I mean--” he finally looks at Sehun, “I go by...Kingdao online.”

“Kingdao?” Sehun’s voice comes out too high.

“You’ve watched me--”Zitao’s eyes go wide, “oh my god--”

“Um,” Sehun sits down next to him, suddenly too nervous. “Yeah.”

“Did you like it?” He looks genuinely worried.

“Uhh-” Sehun looks at his hands, “shut up Zitao.”

Zitao sighs,relieved.

 

"Its okay," Sehun finally says, "I'll--"

They’re quiet.

“I think it’s cool, and do what makes you happy? I honestly thought you were pissed that I kissed you. That you wanted to cut off our friendship.”

“No,” Zitao is quiet, “I just felt like, maybe I wasn’t as being open with you. Like you were giving me your all.”

 

"I just didn't want to lose you," Sehun confesses, "I thought maybe I had crossed the line."

"Sehun Oh," Zitao says seriously, "you're stuck with me."

Sehun let's his face settle into a frown, but he smiles when Zitao pulls him onto the bed. They end up whispering and Zitao tries to wheedle compliments out of Sehun. He refuses of course, entire face flushed a bright tomato red.

“You have good taste in music,” is the only compliment Sehun decides to give. His head is kind of in a weird place, but only because the world it turns out, is really small.

 

 

 

 

Sehun is sprawled on the floor, Chanyeol and Jongdae have taken over his couch and devoured his pizza.

Sehun is too patient.

"This is our first date," Sehun continues from an earlier discussion before the pizza arrived.

"How about dinner?" Jongdae suggests, "Or go see a movie together."

"What's the point of seeing a movie, its dark and you can't talk," Chanyeol chimes in.

"Do it for the romance," Jongdae says, "its a chance to bump elbows and lean on each other."

"Has Kyungsoo figured out that you're a total dork yet?" Chanyeol teases, shoving the last slice of pizza into his mouth.

Sehun snatches the last bite, but he considers what Jongdae has said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sehun doesn’t have to try too hard, because Zitao picks him up on a Sunday night to catch a matinee movie.

 

“They’re playing one of my favorite action films,” he says. Sehun traces his eyes over Zitao’s profile each time a street light illuminates the inside of the car. He sinks into his seat, enjoying the car’s heater.

 

 

 

Nothing between them has changed, kissing seems too natural, too casual.

Just right.

But they don't venture much past it, a mutual agreement. Sehun finds himself without any inclinations to push, and Zitao is the same. He likes holding the older’s hand, he likes teasing Zitao until he’s whining in his ear, and demanding that Sehun be kinder. He also stops watching Kingdao, now that he knows it’s Zitao, he feels like he’s crossing some line.  
Despite Zitao saying that he likes to know that Sehun is watching. And this is an admission that is accompanied by more teasing and play fighting.

 

 

They’re thirty minutes into the movie when Zitao leans over.

"I want to touch you."

"What?" Sehun whispers too loud but the explosion on the screen drowns it out.

Zitao's shoulder bumps him, "I want to touch you."

"We're in a movie theater, Zitao"

"There's only one other couple here," Zitao reasons, a smirk lacing his words,"and its dark."

"We can't."

"Okay, at home?" Zitao smiles, popping a popcorn kernel into Sehun’s mouth. Zitao rests his head on his shoulder.

“Yes,” Sehun says, but he finds himself lying. His blood is heated, the idea of Zitao touching him here has Sehun pulling at his collar. This is a new feeling, and _fuck_ , really.

"I--um," another onscreen explosion muffles his words, "Zitao. Can we?" He asks, flushing at the idea that's formed in his mind.

"We won't get too wild," Zitao says kissing his wrist, "I just--"

"What do you want Zitao?" Sehuns already breathless

"Feel you, feel me," Zitao's kissing onto his neck, face. Barely making a move to kiss his mouth, but it’s intentional. He has Sehun chasing his mouth.

They've kissed plenty, moved slowly allowing the sexual aspect of their whatever this is develop on its own. Its not the main focus. Not when they've spent too much time wrapped up in spoken admissions and wordless conversations.

But this is, this is--

Zitao suddenly presses the heel of his hand on crotch of Sehun’s pants. He bites back a groan.

"This is trashy," Zitao smirks in the dark, teeth gleaming with the blue glow of the large screen, "me getting you off like this."

Sehun makes to laugh, but he sucks in a breath when Zitao maneuvers his zipper open.

“Can’t have you coming in your pants,” he says looking at Sehun heavily. He presses lightly on Sehun’s growing erection, sliding out of his seat and between his legs.

“Can I?” He asks before going any further, hands resting on Sehun’s knees. Zitao crouches to avoid touching the inadvertently sticky floor. This _is_ incredibly trashy.

Sehun’s hips lift briefly, “I don’t think I’ll last long.”

“I don’t plan on drawing it out,” he whispers, taking Sehun into his mouth completely. Sehun hears himself whine, biting into the sleeve of his hoodie. Zitao makes a show of popping him out of his mouth, licking up the entire length. Then he sucks him back down, there’s an art to what he’s doing. Then Sehun feels himself reaching the end much too fast.  
“Oh shit,” he pants, “Zitao, I think--”

He just sucks harder. Sehun digs his hands into Zitao’s shoulders, slumping forward so that his forehead is resting on top of the older’s head.

“All done,” Zitao licks at his lips.

Sehun presses his lips to the other’s mouth; they taste slightly tangy.

“You’re a fucking menace,” Sehun says breathless.

“I know,” Zitao responds proudly, kissing Sehun again.

“Would you kill me if I said I wanted you to take me home,” Sehun whispers, running his hand up and down Zitao’s arm.

“No,” Zitao practically purrs, “of course not.”

 

 

 

 

Zitao’s touch is delicate, but knowing. Slightly tentative.

“I’m nervous,” Zitao admits, “I--” The previous flame now subdued by nervousness.

“Me too,” Sehun agrees,” I just--”

“You’re so pretty,” he says when he pulls off Sehun’s clothes. They’re both naked, pressing into one another under the comforter.

Sehun feels like every single nerve ending is begging to be touched. There’s a slight pressing of lips together, Zitao’s mouth is supple, soft. Like every inch of his body that Sehun touches. His entire being is much too beautiful, he’s much too perfect.

“What happened here?” Sehun asks tracing over a faint scar on Zitao’s chest.

“Not too sure, probably something terribly pointless,” Zitao giggles, “I was a wild kid, apparently.”

“Hmm,” Sehun nuzzles his cheek, letting his hand trail the faint hairs on Zitao’s stomach.

Sehun grinds slightly into Zitao’s thigh, feeling the other’s erection poking into his hip. Zitao wordlessly straddles Sehun’s thighs. He’s hard, precome leaking from the tip. Sehun grasps it into his hand, slowly fisting him.

“Ahh,” Zitao sighs, grinding down onto Sehun’s erection, it presses between his ass.  
“You have the cutest butt,” Sehun gasps, his hand moving quicker.

“I know,” Zitao half moans when Sehun cups both cheeks his his hands.

“I hate you,” Sehun says, moving his hands to down Zitao’s chest. He rolls a pert nipple between thumb and forefinger, relishing in the pitch of his breath.

 

“I think I like your belly,” Zitao briefly kisses his lower abdomen when he moves, “so cute.”

Sehun flushes.

Zitao slides back on top of him, chest to chest. His dick catches on the rim of Sehun’s bellybutton when he thrusts up.

“Wanna come,” Sehun digs his fingers in the elder’s ass again, spreading his cheeks.

“Yeah?” Zitao grinds into him, taking the lube from under his pillow to slick them up. Sehun moans into his shoulder when Zitao takes both of their cocks into one hand. His dick rubbing against Zitao’s feels so good, the skin warm and silky against his.

“Zitao,” Sehun groans again, making sure to let Zitao taste the sound when he presses their mouths together.

The hot hot feel of them together makes Sehun needy with the want for completion to come sooner.

Zitao’s cry of pleasure is much more satisfying when he automatically curls his limbs around Sehun’s body.

“Gross,” Zitao mumbles, but Sehun holds him that much closer.

 

 

 

 

Sehun sometimes feels like they’re stuck in a sort of limbo, but he brings himself back to reality with the first signs of spring.

He avoids asking if there’s an expiration date on what he has with Zitao. But he finds an answer in the vulnerable way he looks at Sehun sometimes. Sehun thinks he has the answer too, because he doesn’t really want forever.

He wants now,whatever may come.

**Author's Note:**

> written for taohunation and posted [here](http://taohunation.livejournal.com/3553.html). i wanted to make this a lot longer, but despite a few edits--it's stayed the same. the title is from the song atlas hands by benjamin francis leftwich. i really like this, and i crossposted on my lj. but i wanted to share here too! it's a pretty oldish fic btw haha


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